


Cages

by silentflux



Category: Once a Thief (TV)
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-11
Updated: 2008-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentflux/pseuds/silentflux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac doesn't appreciate being owned... usually</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cages

_**FIC: Cages, Once a Thief, Vic/Mac**_  
 **Title:** Cages  
 **Author:** Andrea/[](http://silentflux.livejournal.com/profile)[ **silentflux**](http://silentflux.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** Once a Thief  
 **Pairing:** Mac/Vic  
 **Rating:** FRAO  
 **Warnings:** Slash  
 **Kinks:** Immobility (kinda), Wall!sex (kinda)...what? don't look at me like that, ok? it's my interpretation of the kinks... :P  
 **Prompt:** Memory  
 **A/N:** For my comm [](http://community.livejournal.com/rounds_of_kink/profile)[**rounds_of_kink**](http://community.livejournal.com/rounds_of_kink/) New Year's Mini-Round. Once a Thief is a fandom that I had actually forgotten about until recently...so I thought now would be a good time to try it on for size, writing-wise. Umm...I was going for something more upbeat since the show is so campy... but, I ended up with this. *hides* Hopefully, y'all like it. *shrugs*

Unbeta'd as of now...any mistakes are mine and I apologize in advance.

 **Summary:** Mac doesn't appreciate being owned... usually

* ~ * ~ *  
  
Mac was sulking. He knew it, but didn't have the energy to actually care or possibly drag himself back out of the pit of self-pity he'd finally allowed himself. Lianne kept shooting him worried looks and even Vic was watching him appraisingly. Of course, his skin was crawling because he could feel the Director's calculating gaze as well and it slithered along his spine in the most unpleasant fashion.

Mac didn't mind the danger and the criminal aspects of his job. He didn't mind the constant reminders that he and Lianne were no longer a couple. He did mind that his life was still not his own. First, he was 'rescued' and adopted by the Tangs. Of course, it was just a gilded cage of money and power where he had no real freedom and was surrounded by those who thrived on others' pain. That was the main reason he'd talked Lianne into leaving with him. She was just as unhappy with her life in the Tangs - being told when and where and who to be. It was stifling, no matter the trappings that went along with it.

Then, there was prison. Surprisingly, the only real complaint he had about prison was the absolute boredom of being in solitary.

Finally, there was the Agency and its lovely, cold Director. She had no trouble reminding him - she owned him. And he hated it, his pride and his sense of self chafing under the careful restraints and controls she exercised over him. There's the bait, here's the switch. Reward and punishment like he was a fucking dog. He hated it, and he despised her even more. She thought he didn't see all the manipulations beneath the obvious ones, but he did. And he felt like he couldn't breathe.

He woke up almost every night with panic attacks, feeling as if something was resting atop his chest, never letting go. And sometimes he swore he felt someone reach in and squeeze - tear - at the heart of him until he bled and throbbed and just wanted it to stop. The Director was making a serious miscalculation, Mac decided. She didn't realize how much his freedom meant to him, and one day she would push him too hard and he would just stand up into the line of fire and be done with it.

He sighed again, and shifted in his seat, ignoring the Director's glare and his partners' exchanged glances. His smart mouth wasn't working properly anymore and they were getting all worried. Maybe they should be. Maybe it was just another sign of how apathetic he was becoming about his life. Nothing much brought him pleasure anymore, the simplest things tainted by the fact that he wasn't his own person.

When the briefing ended, the Director ordered him to stay for one of her lectures. He bit his lip and tuned her out, not even noticing the flash of concern in her eyes. Leaving the conference room when she'd finally stopped her flirtation and punishment, he headed straight for the Hall of Records. Nathan was a basketcase but at least he was honest.

It didn't take them long to find the latest lair of the bad guy. Mac wasn't even quite sure what it was they were preventing - gun sales, nuclear weapons, whatnot. When the bullets started flying, he lost himself in the act of subduing his opponents. The only thing that cut through all else was the purity of the violence, the movements of his body, protecting his partners. He didn't hear Victor's shouted warning, or maybe he didn't care. He didn't duck as he turned to look at the woman holding a gun on him, eyes hard. He shrugged and asked, "Are you planning to kill me?"

She smiled coldy and began to squeeze the trigger as shots slammed into her. Mac looked over to see a shaken Lianne and a furious Vic. "Mac, what the hell?"

He shrugged and turned away from his partners, feeling surprisingly empty and worn. Nothing left there for him to give - his love and loyalty for both of his partners almost transparent next to the gaping hole inside him.

~ * ~ *~

Mac finished his debrief slash punishment slash chiding with the Director and headed back to his apartment. It startled him how he noticed that so much lately - he never referred to the apartment as home. Because it wasn't - not even close. And actually, now that he thought of it, no place had really been a home for him. Every single place he'd ever been was temporary and definitely none of them were safe. Sighing, he walked in, locked the door behind him and headed to go find a beer. He didn't make it three steps before he found himself slammed face first into the wall. Tensing, he fought back, throwing elbows and ineffective kicks.

He was pushed even farther into the wall, pinned by heat and weight. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Mac?" Vic's voice washed over him like a shock of cold water, and his struggles increased.

"What the fuck, Vic? Let me go!" He twisted and tried to find the upper hand. Vic waited him out and seemed to pay no mind to him, curses having no effects, the only concession was a grunt when one of the younger man's elbows smacked into his ribs.

"Are you done?" Vic asked, his chest brushing against Mac's back as the other man's chest heaved, breathing hard - tired.

"What do you want?" Mac panted out, leaning heavily against the wall, feeling the uneven texture beneath his cheek as he tried to push down the panic of being trapped.

"I want to know what you think you're doing?" Vic practically growled in his ear, heated air caressing his neck and he shuddered involuntarily, heart pounding.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Vic. Now. Let. Me. Go." Mac pushed back against the other man, quickly realizing what a bad idea that was when the shock of heat from shoulders to hips at his back had an obvious effect on his body.

"I don't think so, Mac," Vic murmured, his jaw rasping against the sensitive skin of the younger man's neck, making him gasp. "What's wrong? You don't joke, you don't talk unless you have to, hell, you practically committed suicide today! Tell me."

"Why do you even care?" came the despondent reply, Mac's forehead thumping against the wall, muscles slowly relaxing into Vic's restraining embrace.

"You're my partner," Vic stated softly, his hands gentling their hold, but still keeping his body heavily applied to Mac's.

"I -" Mac started and stopped, words dying in his throat for a moment. "I don't want to be trapped like this anymore." It was all he could think to say, he didn't even contemplate lying - he was so tired of all of it.

Vic didn't know how to respond to that. Resting his head on the back of the other man's shoulder he sighed. "I know."

Mac shifted slightly, soaking up Vic's warmth. It didn't occur to him to ask Vic to let him go again - his presence was comforting. He knew it should be weird - that he should feel trapped. But for the first time in the past few weeks, he didn't feel trapped. He felt...safe. He knew that Vic wouldn't hurt him, ever. They always bitched at each other, always competed, but there was nothing cruel in the other man. Mac had seen that the first time he'd met him. Shifting again, he heard the other man gasp and he knew why when Vic's hips automatically moved against his own.

"Vic, what -" Mac asked turning his head to look at the other man and seeing the flush that was present before he was cut off by soft lips, slightly chapped skidding across his own. A small surprised sound escaped his throat as he pulled back, staring at his partner. "Vic -" He was cut off again by his own groan as strong hips rotated against him with purpose, and a shudder ran through his entire body as his own hips canted back, trying to find more.

Vic purred, "Did you want me to stop, Mac?" His hands rested on the wall on either side of the younger man, biting back the need to rut against the warm body in front of him. Mac's breath stuttered and caught under his breastbone as the blood rushed through him, body trembling with the sudden flood of need.

"No...please." Hoarse and almost inaudible, the words gave permission and Vic's hands slowly explored the sleek form in front of him, tugging at clothing, unbuttoning and unzipping where he could manage. Finally, he managed to pull off Mac's dress shirt, and hastily pushed down his pants and underwear as far as he could, hands mapping smooth skin, hair tickling his palms as he followed its trail down the younger man's torso.

"What do you want?" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to exposed skin at the bank of his neck. "Tell me."

"Anything, Vic. Please," Mac sighed, glad of the wall in front of him and the heavy body behind him, holding him up, keeping him standing. He wasn't sure his knees were going to hold him if this continued much longer. The feel of rough denim against his ass and soft cotton pressed up rubbing along his back made him shiver.

Mac tried to push back and at the same time arch into the petting, and he gasped as a warm hand closed around him, slowly teasing and learning the shape of his cock. He whimpered against the wall, trying to thrust, needing friction, a small whine escaping him when Vic refused him. "Vic," he breathed, a question and an answer in one, muscles slowly relaxing as he let himself trust Vic with completely.

"That's it," Vic sighed, basking in the luxury of such surrender, his hand moving slowly, deftly teasing, while his other arm snaked its way around the younger man's torso. Drawing blunt nails through crisp hair, the slight sharpness as he flicked a hardened nipple. A wounded noise made its way to his ears and he grinned. He knew that Mac wasn't thinking of anything now, nothing but the sensation sliding through him, the need that wrapped itself around and squeezed. He wasn't staring at the bars of his cage. He was reveling in every touch - sharp, soft, cool, hot - gasping and shaking against the wall, knees no longer holding him as Vic and the wall took all of his weight. "C'mon, Mac. C'mon. Wanna see you come."

Mac mewled, head falling back against his partner's shoulder, exposing the long line of his neck to teeth and lips as his body pulsed and fought against the pleasure, too intense - almost pain - yet craving more. Pleas dripped from bitten lips, fat and lazy and ruined, as the heat - barbed and razored - coiled around his spine, settling deep inside. Then Vic bit down on his shoulder and Mac screamed hoarsely as his orgasm ripped through him, shredding everything to pieces, leaving him shattered and panting and still begging.

"Shhh," Vic crooned softly, holding the other man upright, ignoring his own arousal as he stroked the other man through the aftereffects, petting and kissing softly. This was a gift, one he had no intention of abusing just for his own pleasure. The complete trust Mac allowed him wiped away the edge, dulled it until he could concentrate. There would be time - later. Slowly, when Mac seemed able to handle his weight, Vic leaned him against the wall, helping him step out of his pants resting on the floor - careful of the snarl of cloth and shoes - and they slowly made their way into his bedroom.

"Vic, I -" Mac couldn't find the words, his brain hazy and slow as he found himself eased into his bed.

"Relax," Vic told him softly, making quick work of his own clothing and climbing in behind the other man. "We'll figure it out, Mac. I promise."

Mac nodded, turning to wrap himself around his partner, trusting those words - trusting Vic - more than anything in his entire life as he let the exhaustion of the past few weeks finally pull him under. Everything would be fine - Vic would make sure of it.  



End file.
